


Hear You at the Dead of Night

by ZarryFTZouis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Daddy Kink, Gay Sex, Knotting, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mating Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4974520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZarryFTZouis/pseuds/ZarryFTZouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows for a fact that he and Derek are mates.</p><p>So why is Derek in denial?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hear You at the Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Overjoyed" by Bastille, yo.  
> Am I the only one annoyed that people pronounce the "ll" in Bastille like uneducated people?

“For the fifth time Derek, I do not wish to see you,” Stiles growls at the closed door, very aware that the _evolved_ wolf can just barge in. “My going to college shouldn’t–”

 

 _There goes my fucking bedroom door,_ Stiles sighs as his not-so-secret boyfriend walks in like it’s everyday he breaks his boyfriend’s doors. _Ugh, fuck him and his ego_.

 

“Hi, Stiles,” Derek looks uncharacteristically happy. “I thought I would _love_ to discuss how you’re going away for college after senior year.”

“Oh that,” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yeah, me, Scott, and the world! How awesome is that!”

“You really thought I wouldn’t use my super-hearing to listen in on what the hell was going on, now did you?” Derek growls, his eyes glowing the shade of angry wolf electric blue. “You’re an idiot.”

“Now don’t be a sour-wolf,” Stiles giggles at Derek’s cute puppy-like reaction. “Don’t bristle your fur either. Do you lick your balls now? Is that auto-fellatio?”

 

With one swift motion, Stiles’ back is pressed against the wall near his desk. This position is oddly erotic, and it’s been _ages_ since the last time they did something erotic. To help with the cause, one nicely muscled thigh is wedged between Stiles’ (wanton) legs, his dick pressed by–

“A nice ‘hello’ would be nice, Der-Der,” Stiles is incredibly stupid, everyone knows that, the way he just wades into danger zone like it’s his part-time job… well, he’s doomed the moment he opens his mouth. “Or ‘hey, do you want to have sexy time with me?’ The answer is ‘yes’.”

“You and your stupid teenage hormones,” Derek resigns. “But your smartass comments won’t keep me from getting my answer any longer.”

“Aw, now I have to find a different way to distract you!”

 

Before Derek can say—protest—anymore, Stiles presses his lips hard onto Derek’s. They’ve been keeping it a secret, really, but Scott and Liam (that little puppy) always teases about the way they look at each other. (Stiles isn’t a good actor, so.) Derek moans out of surprise, which goes straight to Stiles’ already half-hard dick. It’s the time like this where Stiles feels an ounce of dominance, whereas Derek’s wolf makes it hard to tame him. Soon enough, Derek hoists Stiles from the floor and carries him to his bed, laying him down and starting a trail of kisses. Stiles knows the pattern; it starts at the spot below his earlobe, then it goes down to his jawline, where Derek always nips with his fangs. The wolf is barely contained when it comes to sex, Stiles knows what, so he lets himself be roughened up.

“I’m _so_ glad that you don’t carry diseases ‘cause otherwise, I’d be infected with about five different STI’s from having sex with you–”

“Stiles, shut up,” Derek growls at him, his eyes angry shade of blue. “It’s almost a turn off.”

“My body is a turn on though right?” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows.

 

Another growl is his response.

 

“Sour-wolf,” Stiles laughs, kissing the top of Derek’s head. “You need to relax—hey, why do you and I have sex?”

“You’re such a mouthy asshole,” Derek mumbles, dipping his head down to where Stiles’ pants are at. He watches his wolf boyfriend use his teeth to undo his jeans and pull them down in one smooth movement, his boxers extra. “There must be a way to shut you up.”

“Mhmm,” Stiles can’t think straight with Derek’s big, rough hand on his dick. “Be creative.”

“Oh I will be.”

 

Stiles usually hates choking on things, but it’s a whole ‘nother ball game when it comes to Derek’s cock. There’s one secure hand on the back of his head to support him as Derek thrusts into his mouth, his eyes watering from the pleasant uncomfortableness. Stiles really wants to try oral knotting but Derek is 100% against it for some reason. Every time that’s brought up, Stiles knows his place to not push it.

“Such a good boy,” Derek praises, shallow thrusts indicating how close he is. “Gonna let me come all over your pretty face, yeah?”

Derek pulls out with a _plop_ and strokes himself to finish.

 

“I’m waiting,” Stiles jiggles his ass.

“Oh, but I love when you come alone from my knot,” Derek replies with a snide smirk.

 

Very ordeal-y, (not really) they often do it doggy-style because Derek, in fact, is an overgrown dog. Derek said something about the position bringing out the most of his wolf and Stiles doesn’t mind. Rougher the better, isn’t it?

“For fuck’s sake, just stick it in!” Stiles growls at his wolf when the mentioned wolf is taking too long to prep him. “I’m loose from fingering myself due to the lack of your actions, no thank you.”

“Naughty, naughty,” Derek wolf-whistles, tip of his fat erection pressing into Stiles’ hole. “I still want you to call me that, y’know.”

“Hell no,” Stiles groans, and that’s not just from the very large cock pushing inside of him, making him feel like he’s being ripped apart.

 

Derek isn’t bad at what he does, he’s fucking flawless at everything, but it also makes him jealous. An excellent lover means he’s had practise…

 

“What are you thinking, baby?” Derek whispers against Stiles’ neck. “Tell me.”

“I just… don’t want this to ever end,” Stiles answers truthfully, not really having other choice. Fucking heartbeat-detecting sensitive hearing. “You know how much.”

“Then tell me,” Derek accentuates with a particularly hard thrust, “why you’re planning on going away for college.”

 

Stiles shuts up and waits for Derek’s knot to swell up. When Derek lost his alpha status, Stiles was tad bit disappointed, thinking that was the end of the delectable feeling of being knotted. But, as they found out during sex after Derek became a special wolf, he still knots. Derek’s thrusts get sloppier, but deeper, and very last minute, Derek flips them over so that Stiles’ back is pressed to Derek’s front.

“De-rek!” Stiles protests, gravity pulling him down even more onto Derek’ thickening knot. He bites into his lower lip to keep himself from crying out his lover’s name from ecstasy as he’s filled to the brim.

“Sorry,” Derek nuzzles his stubbly cheek against Stiles’ neck. “Just wanted to feel you better.”

 

 _But you can’t even say ‘I love you’ to me,_ Stiles bites back his reply as Derek finishes.

 

-

 

Post-coital cuddles are always great in Stiles’ opinion.

Post-coital cuddles with Derek, however, are too hot.

 

As a werewolf, Derek runs at a higher temperature and he’s pretty sure 100 Fahrenheit isn’t normal for humans. The non-Were humans anyways. He’s naked and sweating with the window open, and it’s night, for fuck’s sake.

 

“… me,” Derek mumbles in his sleep. “Please…”

“What?” Stiles says out of instinct. Is sour-wolf himself having a dream about him? “Der-Der, you know I won’t _ever_ leave you… at least not in that way.”

Derek wakes up with a growl, pinning Stiles under his massive body.

“Hey, I’m all for round two but less kinky,” Stiles points out at the fact that his arms are pinned above him. “Really, Derek, I get that you’re a wolf but–”

“You startled me, and I don’t like being surprised,” Derek doesn’t let go of his wrists. “Did you call me sour-wolf in my sleep?”

“… Maybe…” Stiles shifts the best he can under what must be two-hundred pounds of pure muscles mass. Not in a wrestler-icky way either. In a healthily-built way, of course. “Do you mind getting off of me now? You’re kinda really heavy.”

“Wow, thanks, M–”

“Shush!” Stiles intercepts. “You can’t even pronounce it correctly, and I hate it.”

“Well, that’s the point, Ma–”

“I hate you, no more round two for you, sour-wolf,” Stiles grumbles, trying to knee Derek in his groin. “I was in the mood but no, you had to be a dick.”

“What if I rimmed you?” Derek teases, a soft growl emanating from his throat. “You can stay mad at me, but I still get to eat your ass out.”

“ _Derek_ ,” Stiles knows that his Dad has an overnight shift like any other night, but he also knows how Derek _howls_ to let the others know Stiles is his. “Can I take back the round two remark?”

Stiles is already flipped onto his stomach.

“Please?” Stiles makes the mistake of clenching his ass when Derek’s large paw is groping him. “Dammit, I want sleep!”

“Please,” Derek reiterates in the total opposite way. “You just want my fat cock inside your ass all the time.”

“True but…” Stiles’ cheeks burn from what he just agreed with. “Hey, your dick isn’t _that_ big!”

“Oh really, I knot and everything,” Stiles knows that he just got an eye-roll. “C’mon and giddy up.”

 

Knowing he lost his battle, Stiles holds himself open, waiting for Derek’s tongue. It’s not fair how Derek was gifted with freakishly long tongue. Long or not, it’s a good advantage because Stiles _really_ likes being eaten out. It’s more… intimate? Stiles thinks that’s the word he’s looking for. He rolls his hips back in desperate attempt to have more, like the greedy person he is. He loves sex—no, he loves sex because it’s with Derek.

“Don’t be naughty,” Derek pulls out long enough to growl at him. “ _Daddy_ will have to spank you if you do.”

“Tease,” Stiles flips over and surprises Derek by straddling his waist. “I want to ride you all dry, can I?”

Derek nods. Grinning, Stiles grabs the base of Derek’s hard and long cock and descends on it. It’s more painful than their usual times, since they _are_ going dry, but it’s worth it. He bounces a couple times before Derek gets a hold on his waist in a very possessive manner and bounces him himself. It’s hot, hell, everything Derek does is hot to Stiles, being controlled like this. He starts to mouth a word but Derek’s tip hits his prostate at that precise moment, making him groan.

“You like my cock, yeah, baby boy?” Derek croons, thrusting extra hard into Stiles’ prostate, causing him to cry out as more pre-cum bubbles out of his slit. “Going to come all over my chest like the good boy you are.”

“Yes,” Stiles manages not to roll his eyes; if he does, he’ll be left with a sore arse and a cock cage, he knows from the experience. The problem—in Stiles’ case—is that he’s still sore from last night and that usually results in premature ejaculation, which Derek really, _really_ hates. He tries to stave his orgasm off as long as he can but his physiology wins, the start of his ass-clenching making Derek growl deep.

“I’m sorry!” Stiles squeaks. “You have a massive dick and–”

“If you don’t shut up right now, baby,” Derek’s canines protrude eerily, “I’ll fuck you even after I knot.”

Stiles moans at the thought.

“It’s not gonna be pretty,” Derek growls again.

“Mm, daddy,” Stiles moans again, swivelling his hips. “Isn’t my tight ass good enough for you to come right now? I’ll even let you knot my tight throat as a bonus round.”

Derek arches his brow, his face otherwise tightly pressed together from the onslaught of his orgasm. Grinning, Stiles clenches around Derek’s shaft before he expands to form a knot. Stiles groans at the initial discomfort—it’s not exactly 100% okay when something inside you just grows in size.

That and the fact that wolves come for _at least fifteen minutes._

 

“You’re such a bottom,” Derek chuckles after his knot goes away. “God, I want to keep you forever.”

 

 _Then tell me the fucking words, Derek,_ Stiles growls inside his head. _The mate principle won’t work unless both of us declare the love and do all the proper rituals._

 

But he also knows that Derek has his own personal issues with the mate bond, the one that has to do with his _very_ traumatising childhood.

 

 _If you somehow survived the Bite, Paige, I would hate you hard-core_.

 

-

 

Stiles is a slightly better cook than Derek so he offers to cook some breakfast. And by cooking, he means popping bread slices into the toaster. He thinks it’s safe since toasters bursting into flames only happen in movies and other sorts of fictions. By the time Derek gets out of his morning shower (unfortunately not shared with Stiles), their breakfast is ready.

 

“Toasts and sunny-side up eggs, really?” Derek arches his brows. “Do l look like the type to eat something as un-meaty like this?”

“Well, I wanted to cook up some breakfast sausages, but that means I might accidentally—hello Dad!” Stiles waves frantically at his tired-looking father. The Sherriff simply grouses. “Derek was staying overnight to, well, you know.”

“I don’t need to know what my son is up to,” his Dad grumbles. “I’m just here to tell you I’m off to work and Derek,” two men have some sort of stare-off. “Protect him at all cost.

Stiles huffs at those words. The only protection he needs is his ass _not_ being sore from Derek’s thing.

 

The thing easily meaning his gigantic knot, of course. The secret website that Stiles needed a lot of guessing with hacking into said that the size of a wolf’ knot varies. Thanks a lot, Internet.

“You’re thinking,” Derek boops his forehead, which is really uncharacteristic of him. “Were you thinking about how we have the house to ourselves again?”

“You make it sound like we just kicked my Dad out of his own house,” Stiles groans, shoving an entire toast in his mouth so Derek won’t pester him with more questions.

“Don’t be a child, Ma–”

Stiles is quick to shove another toast in Derek’s mouth.

“Not fair,” Derek pouts like the man-child he is. “Just because I don’t have Polish ancestry doesn’t mean I can’t try to pronounce your name.”

“Well, not even my Dad gets it right, and it’s a fucking pain in the butt to spell it for job applications,” Stiles retorts. “Unfortunately, it’s a tribute to my paternal grandfather so I can’t even legally change it.”

“Too bad,” Derek grins. “So, finally have enough balls to tell me why you’re going away for college after your senior year?”

“It’s not too hard to answer,” Stiles shrugs. “Crazy shit happens here and I’m done with crazy shit.”

“You should be stronger than that, Stiles,” Derek growls. “The nogitsune stuff was done with. You didn’t have a choice–”

“Yeah, but it was _my_ body that killed people,” Stiles chokes on his words. “Do you know how much it meant that it was my own hands that…”

“I know, baby,” Derek sighs, wrapping his arms around Stiles. “Hey, I went through similar stuff once…”

“No you didn’t,” Stiles pushes Derek away. “It was your psycho uncle who killed your sister for that stupid Alpha status; it was me, myself, who killed her.”

“You were possessed, there’s the difference,” Derek sighs again. “C’mon, you aren’t allowed to get worked up during the summer. What say you we go to a pool?”

“So you can show off your poor swimming skills?” Stiles smirks at the thoughts.

“I was paralysed from the waist down!” Derek groans.

“We’re going!”

 

-

 

Derek is an excellent swimmer, to Stiles discontent. Like he keeps saying, he was, indeed, paralysed from waist down due to the Kanima’s venom. Stiles reminds him that’s how they started saving each other’s asses; he quiets.

“The water is freaking cold,” Stiles whines, shivering in the middle of the pool. “Hey, sour-wolf, are you ever coming in?”

“I hate you,” Derek dives in—a perfect arc, dammit. “I don’t think we’ve done it.”

“Done?” Stiles knows he’s probably breaking the school rules by using the pool while unenrolled for the summer school.

“Pool sex,” Derek’s eyes burn bright shade of blue from desire. “From what I hear, it’s really hard for tops.”

“Oh, boo-hoo, you’re a top,” Stiles tries to laugh it off, his heartbeat quickening. His breath is catching, fuck. “Are you sure you and _Kate_ didn’t have water sex?”

 

A deep growl fills the air.

 

“What?” Stiles tries to take his stand but it’s sort of hard to in the water. “You thought you were in love with her.”

“Yeah, I _thought_ I did,” Derek corners Stiles easily. “She was the biggest mistake of my life.”

“What am I to you?”

“The best damn thing that ever happened to me,” Derek says simply.

Stiles opens his mouth to say his usual sarcastic reply but nothing comes out. _Damn, don’t come out so strong on me, you big bad sour wolf._

“You’re, um,” Stiles doesn’t move, feeling a certain _hardness_ against his leg. “Don’t jack off in the water, that’s unsanitary.”

“I have your perfect ass,” Derek nuzzles his nose into Stiles’ neck—probably—in a horny way. He’s hard, for fuck’s sake.

“Whoa, did I die and enter the heaven where Derek is always horny?” Stiles internally air-fists that his wits are back. “The Derek I f—know isn’t this rearing to go.”

“It’s summer, we should be having all sorts of fun in all forms,” Derek defends himself. “If you aren’t willing, I’ll just jack off in my room, listening to sexy songs.”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about unwilling,” Stiles purrs, trying to sound sexy and failing, and wraps his legs around Derek’s lean waist. “We don’t need lube in the water, do we? Your dick will be wet in seconds.”

“That’s the weirdest imagery you’ve ever given me,” Derek scowls, the oh-so-familiar look on his handsome face. “Bet you fingered yourself while you were changing.”

“Guilty,” Stiles grins, wiggling out of his trunks. “God, you’re so hot, and not just body temperature wise. I can suck you off for all day and not complain.”

“That’s a promise,” Derek grinds the entire length of him between Stiles’ ass cheeks, the feeling making the latter even hornier.

 

Derek carries Stiles easily to the stairs in the corner (Stiles will never admit being small) and sets him against it. He then initiates a heated make out session that leaves Stiles wanting more.

 

“Gonna take me from behind?” Stiles wiggles his ass towards his captor.

“Hush, or I’ll really leave you here.”

“You won’t,” Stiles giggles. “Now make love to me all night, jeesh.”

 

And he really does.

 

-

 

Stiles wakes up with sunlight pouring into his eyes, and as a non-morning person, that’s an eyeful.

(His sense of humour needs changing, ugh.)

“Morning, sunshine… or should I say sun-dead?” Derek’s loving voice coos. “You fell asleep quick.”

“Mm, bed,” Stiles moans, gathering the sheets towards his stomach. “Did I pass out right after you carried me to bed?”

“Yeah. Good thing I know where you keep your house key, eh?”

“You aren’t Canadian,” is the most intelligent reply Stiles can come up with. “Did my dad leave for the police station?”

“He’s the Sherriff.”

 

Derek already happens to have cooked them breakfast in form of–

 

“Cereal,” Stiles deadpans. “This is your brilliant idea for our breakfast?”

“I suck at cooking and I don’t like burning houses,” Derek shrugs. “It’s your favourite.”

“Bad puppy,” Stiles pokes at Derek’s nose.

“This puppy bites,” Derek growls playfully. “But I don’t fetch.”

“Oh yes you do,” Stiles refutes. “Fetch me a banana, I want banana slices in my cereal.”

 

-

 

“You smell strongly of Derek,” Scott wrinkles his nose. “Were you having sex again?”

“Hush,” Stiles doesn’t bother with denying the dating rumours. It’s blatantly obvious, according to Scott and his Dad. “Why did you call me up?”

“Well, our senior year starts in two months,” Scott says it like explaining two-plus-two-is-four to him. “We should plan out our future other than going away for college.”

“Always stick together, yeah, man,” Stiles grins. “Where’s your precious?”

Scott gives him a glare.

“Oh, I’m not allowed to call a kickass kitsune—who happens to be your girlfriend—a precious, got it,” Stiles reprimands himself. “Wait, I just said that she’s a kickass supernatural, maybe that’s why.”

“Smart,” Scott grins. “Are you still having nightmares?”

“Sleeping with the person you lo—care about reduces those loads,” Stiles corrects himself. Who knows what Scott tells that sour excuse of a werewolf. “Psychological stuff. More you feel protected by someone, the less likely it is you experience bad things around them.”

“Why do I feel like you just randomly came up with it?” Scott furrows his eyebrows together.

“Well, la-di-da, let’s go to In-N-Out,” Stiles is quick to change the subject. Heck, he’ll sign to be on board to the next rocket ship to Mars if possible.

 

-

 

The lunch ‘date’ to the restaurant went well. Scott had enough senses not to bother Stiles about his relationship status quo with Derek.

 

 _What does my heart really want_? Stiles is left wondering the very question that’s been haunting him ever since he decided to go to the college out of California. _Would I really leave everything behind? Family and friends alike?_

 

“Why must the hardest decisions also be as simple as ‘yes’ or ‘no’?” Stiles groans, incapable of answering himself. “Is this what life is all about?”

“Now you’re talking to yourself in the woods?” Derek deep voice startles the shit out of the teen. “Knock-knock, your daily dose of big bad wolf here.”

“I was with Scott, and now I’m going back home,” Stiles hates the idea of Derek shadowing him. He’s not a child, for fuck’s sake. “You’re like a watchdog now, aren’t you? I’m not going to do something you won’t.”

“Who’s being sour now?” A familiar smirk spreads across Derek’s ruggedly handsome face. “Now hush and kiss me.”

 

Stiles is too pissed to do so, but he also has been in love with Derek for a while so he pecks Derek on the lips.

“And I’m not doing it in the woods,” Stiles groans in semi-defeat when he feels that Derek is sort of hard. “Seriously, it’s not, um, closed?”

“Outdoors sex as to be in your top to-do list,” Derek reasons. “I’ll rim you.”

“Just because you have a greatly talented tongue does not mean it’s a deal breaker,” Stiles whines, hard to resist when Derek’s rough hand is under his shirt. “Derek, behave!”

“Woof!” Derek isn’t helping with the cause. “Why, do you need a proper bed to be on fours for me, baby?”

“I mean it,” Stiles’ control is faltering so yeah, he needs to round Derek up.

“Okay, fine,” Derek growls deep. “But I get my way with you once we’re home.”

“Nope, give my ass a break, Mr. Big Bad Sour-Wolf,” Stiles refuses.

 

-

 

Stiles wakes up to the sound of loud growls, which is totally new to him. Derek may have a temper but he is a fluffy little kitten around Stiles.

 

“Get that thing out of here!” Derek points at a ball of fluff on the ground. “How the fuck did this thing get here?”

“Aw, it’s a kitty!” Stiles coos once he identifies the creature. Stiles picks up the kitten and checks its gender. “I always wanted a kitten called ‘Mr. Smittens’.”

“Well, you aren’t getting one anytime soon,” Derek growls at the poor little scrap of fur menacingly. “Throw it out.”

“Hello, Mr. Smittens,” Stiles says in an overly sweet voice. “You’re going to take a permanent residence in my room now.”

“Are you going to afford to that… kitten?” Derek groans in defeat. “Can you even do that?”

“I think I can persuade a certain rich person to help me,” Stiles bats his eyelashes. “Please?”

“No,” his sour-wolf replies without a second thought. “You’re adopting that—hey, not the face.”

“What face?” Stiles keeps doing his puppy-dog pouty face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No means no, Stiles,” Derek reiterates in a stern voice. “God, I don’t want you to smell like cat piss when I’m about to kiss you.”

“Mr. Smittens does not smell like cat piss,” Stiles refutes.

“He does to my highly attuned sense of smelling,” Derek lets out a warning growl.

“Okay, fine, sheesh,” Stiles lets go of Mr. Smittens. “I’ll take a shower before seeing you, how’s that?”

 

“Stiles,” Derek has an odd look in his breath-taking eyes. “We always get naked when we see each other.”

“Not always,” Stiles refutes. “My ass needs recovery time in between.”

“You aren’t keeping that fluffy thing when I practically live here,” Derek reaffirms.

“Nope, my house, my rules,” Stiles sticks his tongue out. “Don’t worry, Smitty-Poo, old Derek is just grumpy from lack of sex.”

 

A growl is the typical response Stiles knows so well.

 

-

 

Stiles wakes up to the feeling of a fluffy tail against his face.

 _Weird, Derek doesn’t sleep in his wolf form, or even is able to…_ Stiles yawns and tries to fend off the tail. _And is he even fluffy to begin with? The fuck?_

“Meow!” The creature says cheerfully. “Meow!”

“Hi Mr. Smittens,” Stiles grins at his new pet. “Hope Derek doesn’t kiss me as the first thing when he sees me because he really dislikes kittens.”

“Meow?” It sounds like a question to Stiles’ human ears.

“Yes, I’ll feed you,” Stiles coos at the kitten. “How much does neutering cost by the way?”

 

Mr. Smittens just licks his paw.

 

“What are you supposed to know anyways?” Stiles groans and carries the kitten downstairs to the kitchen. He sets the animal down and searches for a can of tuna. When he opens the can—with much difficulty—he meows and practically runs towards him.

“So you like tuna, don’t you?” Stiles feels like he’s talking to himself since animals aren’t much cognitive of human speech. “Well, I’ll just ask Dad to buy them a lot for your treat… I should get you proper food too.”

“Meow meow!” The furry creature just babbles. At least Stiles thinks it’s babbling in its Cat language. “Meow!”

“Okay, here you go,” Stiles drops the bowl to the kitten’s level.

 

Having a pet isn’t an easy job.

 

-

 

Stiles coats himself with extra, invisible layers of AXE before meeting up with Derek at a local café for his anniversary (well, ninth month). Derek promised to spoil him there with anything he wants.

“I want a venti—Derek, you said anything,” Stiles pouts. “Yeah, venti caramel Frappuccino and two birthday cake pops. Ooh, add the peanut butter fudge brownie too!”

“Is that all?” The freckled brunette stares at Derek.

“Yes,” Derek looks at Stiles like spending $14 at Starbucks is ridiculous. “That’s all.”

 

“Smile for once,” Stiles chides his sour-wolf boyfriend; he gets a scowl. “Want a bite of my cake pop?”

“I want a bite of your ass,” Derek states. “A really nice chunk out of it would be nice.”

“I know it’s our ninth month anniversary and I’m irresistible as fuck but can you not be a sexual predator in public?” Stiles groans as one foot trails its way up his thigh. “Please?”

“What are you talking about?” Derek smiles beguilingly. “I’m _always_ the predator.”

“I know this is, like, a prenuptial to our actual date, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

 

Derek’s wolfish grin is unsettling.

 

-

 

“Holy shit, this Brazilian restaurant is at least 150 per person,” Stiles looks at the aforementioned Brazilian restaurant, _Nuevens Altas_. He has no idea what the restaurant’s name means. “Can you really afford it?”

“I’m not on the streets after that bitch raided the Hale vault, now am I?” Derek rolls his eyes. “Go in, I want to treat you.”

 

The person who serves them as a thick Portuguese accent, and whether that’s for the show are he’s actually new to the country, Stiles will never find out. They decide with the traditional course, Course A, and now waiting for their drinks.

 

“Why here out of anywhere else?” Stiles sips his water. Yep, he definitely needs his diet coke. “You could’ve taken me anywhere.”

“I’m not your typical wolf,” Derek grins, showing his perfect teeth. “Unlike people you cohort with, I’m actually somewhat wealthy.”

“How incredibly cocky of you,” Stiles rolls his eyes this time. “Mind you, it’s your family money, not technically your own.”

“Hush, I can still spoil you with _my family money_ ,” Derek acknowledges the server who brings them their drinks; it’s a can of Kokanee beer for the wolf. “Can I not, Stilinski?”

“I guess,” Stiles groans in defeat.”

 

-

 

The dinner went well. Stiles is fucking stuffed from all the meat the cutter dude brought them and, well, he can barely walk.

 

“Wait, this isn’t the way home,” Stiles interjects as Derek drives an unfamiliar road. “Derek, where the hell are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

 

Twenty minutes of driving later, they arrive at a deserted hill. There isn’t any sign of civilisation within the mile’s radius.

 

“This is where I used to come when I was a teen,” Derek sounds nostalgic. “During full moons, that’s what I meant.”

“Oh.”

“It’s quite a run from where my house used to be at, but I still came here,” Derek continues. “I wanted to bring my… close friends here.”

“I’m your boyfriend,” Stiles reminds the werewolf.

“Yeah, you’re the only one I ever brought here,” for once, Derek’s grin isn’t cocky.

“So what are we–”

“Jesus Christ, can you let me explain things without, you know, interrupting?” Derek laughs good-heartedly. “We’re going to stargaze.”

“Oh,” Stiles finds himself repeating the earlier segment.

 

Derek takes some blankets out from the trunk and sets up a place they can sit. Stiles grins as he sits on Derek’s lap.

“ _Just_ stargazing?” He waggles his brows at his wolf boyfriend. “I can think of other things to do under the stars.”

“Horny teens,” Derek fake-sighs. “What do I do with them?”

“You do them, duh,” Stiles giggles. “What’s stopping you?”

 

-

 

“What’s stopping you?” Stiles asks very acutely, much to Derek’s dislike.

 

 _Because I’m sure you’re my mate,_ Derek sighs internally _. And that will make so many enemies come after you if I have sex with you after acknowledging that you’re mine, only mine_.

 

“I think we had too much sex in last couple days,” Derek makes up a meek excuse. “Aren’t you even worn out?”

“But under the stars sex is on my to-do list!”

“Stiles.”

“C’mon, I thought I meant something a lot more than just a simple boyfriend to you,” Stiles pouts very cutely, like a small puppy. Dachshund maybe. “Aren’t I?”

“That’s for another time’s discussion,” Derek pushes Stiles off of his lap.

“Sour-wolf,” Stiles grunts, resting his head on Derek’s lap. “What’s that one?”

“An array of stars, you’ve got eyes yourself.”

“Hm, I think there could be a better way to see the stars,” Stiles makes his way back to claim Derek’s lap as his seat. “And better way to spend time.”

“I said—what are you doing?”

“Hm?” Stiles is basically riding his dick through their clothes and he isn’t being subtle about it either. “I can feel you so hard, daddy.”

“Stiles.”

“Wanna ride you and feel your knot deep inside me.”

“Fuck,” Derek can feel his eyes going shiny shade of blue. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

 

With a powerful growl that’s probably heard by nearby supernatural creatures, Derek flips Stiles onto his stomach and starts rutting into his ass.

“This is what you wanted, yeah?” Derek coos, his hearing honed to Stiles’ laboured breathing. “Me fucking you into the grass, that’s why you were riling me up.”

“For fuck’s sake, starlit sex is, like, one of the top 10 most romantic things to do,” _of course Stiles is mouthy before sex_.

“Hush, or I’ll make you go home hard and unspent,” Derek threatens his beloved boyfriend. Yes, he does love Stiles, but it’s sort of hard to admit that out loud.

 

Stiles quiets immediately.

 

“God, this has got to be one of the hottest things ever,” Derek undresses Stiles in a hurry, leaving him bare to the open air. “I can just eat you up.”

“Oh please, Big Bad Sour Wolf, I’d love that,” Stiles quips in like it was necessary.

Derek shoves two dry fingers inside Stiles as punishment. It _was_ supposed to be punishment but Stiles lets out an excited squeal, like he likes how this is playing out.

 

“Dirty slut,” Derek growls out. “Probably finger yourself whenever you’re lonely, don’t you?”

“Now that I think about it–”

“What did I say about speaking?” Derek bites Stiles’ ass—hard.

Stiles stays silent as if getting the cue.

“Good boy, Stiles,” Derek bites again, this time softer and more playful. “Now, I didn’t bring anything with me, so you have to wet my fingers like a desperate slut, can you do that?”

A nod.

Derek prods his fingers at Stiles’ lips and the younger boy sucks on them obediently. As seconds go on, Derek groans at the pattern Stiles has set—actually, it’s more like Stiles is suckling on Derek’s fingers like they’re his dick.

“Naughty boys don’t get prep,” Derek hums as he quickly lowers his jeans just enough to free his hard-on, and ignoring his boyfriend’s “wait!”, he pushes in _very_ roughly indeed.

“Oh my God,” Stiles moans, his nails digging into the grassy patch. “Just fuck me into the oblivion.”

“That’s what I intend to do,” Derek dips his head down to nip and nibble on Stiles’ earlobe as he thrusts into Stiles’ tight heat. He rarely goes in dry, unless Stiles pissed him off (more than the usual) or it’s punishment. _Whatever_ , Derek scoffs inside his head as he fights off the urge to _mark_ Stiles as his during lovemaking. The pull is extra strong tonight, as if being under the moon (and the stars) is affecting him somehow…

“So close…” Stiles mewls, his walls starting to clench already. “Can I jerk off?”

“No, baby,” Derek growls, licking at the sensitive spot under Stiles’ ears. “You can’t do that when I’m the one pleasuring you.”

“Please daddy,” Stiles begs shamelessly. “Lemme touch myself.”

“If I do that, I can’t prove how much I love you.”

“You—you love me?” Stiles sounds surprised—not turned on, much to Derek’s disappointment.

“Yeah, been for a long time now,” Derek admits in a small voice, his strokes faltering. “God, I want to Claim you.”

“Then do it,” Stiles bares his neck.

Derek wants to, but he wants Stiles to come more than once. With a smirk, he gives one final stroke against Stiles prostate before he comes. Derek waits for the tightening around his shaft to go away before he bites into Stiles’ neck, giving him the Bonding Bite. Stiles cries out in ecstasy, coming once more, but this time, Derek joins him in bliss. Knotting Stiles this time feels more intimate… maybe because they’re mated now, yeah.

 

“You’re mine as I am yours,” Derek kisses Stiles’ brow.

“Nerd.”

 

-

 

“Oh God, did he finally Claim you?” Stiles groans as his long-time best friend claps him on his back. “Congrats, bro!”

“I’m _right_ here,” Derek clears his throat.

“Oh yeah, congrats, Derek,” Scott grins like a—well—wolf. “For finally growing a pair.”

“I don’t like you, McCall,” Derek states very calmly.

“Ew, that was, like, the declaration of love in case of you and Stiles so don’t ever say that to me again,” Scott feigns disgust. “But congrats again on the being mates thing. Don’t try to make babies yourself, you can always adopt baby werewolves.

 

Both Stiles and Derek blush right down to their necks at Scott’s comment, but hey, that’s what it’s like to be friends with someone who can be... tad bit playful at times.

 

“My sour-wolf,” Stiles giggles when Derek picks him up just to kiss him everywhere that’s not covered by his clothes. “And lessen the PDA, will you, Der?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Ma–”

“Don’t even attempt to say my real name!” Stiles shuts his _mate_ up by pecking him shortly. “No one ever does that.”

“That’s true, I tried and just gave up,” Scott agrees.

 

Whether Stiles likes it or not, he’s stuck with his idiots. 


End file.
